


Tag Your Triggers

by ahoy_m8tee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Redemption, Triggers, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoy_m8tee/pseuds/ahoy_m8tee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one time Kankri lets down his verbal guard is the one time he goes too far, sending a certain Seatroll over the edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag Your Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was a hard one. Got this as an anonymous topic prompt and decided to run with it, only for me to realize that Kankri is actually really hard for me to write. Original prompt: "CroKri, one or both gets injured" Pretty vague, but this is the result. Hope you enjoy!

_I am bodiless human._

_I am a shell of a troll.  
_

 

\- “Rufio!” No answer. “Porrim!...Anyone?!” your perturbed voice howls through the halls. “I require assistance from someone! I do not wish to interrupt what might be important business, so I apologize if I am disturbing anyone, but if you could spare a moment I would really appreciate council!” You’re desperate. Normally you might lecture anyone else for such unruly behavior at this time of day, but this is different. Sure enough, when a nearby door opens, it is all you can do to not fling yourself at the other living being. It’s then that you notice just who it is that has responded to your distress call.

\- “Important bu-th-ine-th like TH-LEEP? Kankri, what the th-it are you doing up th-o late?” The figure leans against the doorframe and scrubs at his face with the back of a glove that he had neglected to remove before falling asleep in the first place.  
\- “I’m so sorry to have awoken you, Mituna. Is there anyone else around that I could talk to? I’m afraid my matter is somewhat urgent and I don’t have time to-“  
\- “If you need th-omthing, a-th-k me fir-th-t.” The taller troll growls. While his eyes remained hidden under his matted bangs, it was obvious that a serious glare was in the works. You huff and struggle to peer into the room for any sign of the other’s matesprite, but she was nowhere to be seen.  
\- “Oh, never mind. There’s just no time, I need to go find someone else.” A quick hand flashes out and stops you from moving away.  
\- “A-th-k ME.” His grip is unnecessarily tight, you note, but don’t respond. You were careless. Just how many trolls were you going to upset today? Captor is always volatile whenever he starts getting riled up like this. Oh, why couldn’t anyone else have heard you instead? “What i-th it I’m too th-upid to help with, huh?” You try to think of an answer to pacify him, but you’re just too frazzled to do anything but gawk up at him.  
\- “What’s going on, boys?” A third voice grumbles behind you. While your calling out might have awoken most of the team, for some reason it was the sudden halt of it that was now drawing out a few curious members. You stifle a frustrated groan and jump from foot to foot in an attempt to remain collected.  
\- “Meulin, the most terrible thing has happened! I have triggered someone! I, who is always so careful around others…” Meulin exchanges an incredulous look with Rufio who has just dragged himself out of bed. Mituna growls again.  
\- “THAT-TH WHAT YOU CALLED U-TH OUT OF BED FOR?” A wave of Meulin’s hand hushes him.  
\- “Shush, Mituna. He genuinely seems upset. What happened?” Loud gulp. Nervous shuffle. The conversation seemed just as eager to haunt you as it was to be forgotten posthaste. Bits and pieces flicked around your befuddled think pan.  
\- “Well, we were talking, and… and I brought up the state of his hair and how I really do not think it appears very hygienic-“  
\- “Who?” An odd whine escapes through your clenched teeth and the neck of your sweater is over your head and clenched in your hands in one smooth motion.  
\- “Cronus…” You mutter. Someone whispers outside of your wool haven. “I have done something horrible and I can’t find him to apologize.” Nothing. No response. “He was talking about those silly humans again! I try my hardest to understand it, really I do, but I was tired and I had just finished reading a highly distressing work, and in my compromised state I accidentally let on that…” A deep sigh crumples you inward even further. “that I still do not think it is possible for him to be one of them. I told him that he could be mistaken about this human business.” You thought it was quiet before, but a new stunned silence settles over the group.  
\- “That’s not like you.” Is all Rufio manages to awkwardly add in.  
\- “Why not? He-th an a-th to me.” Mituna grumbles before a loud thump and a door slam tells you that he’s been shoved back into his room.  
\- “None of us have seen him. I don’t know where he is if he’s not in his room, Kankri, but maybe you can check down by the beach?” It doesn’t take a second thought before you’ve barreled through the group, sending them into either wall with an unintentional amount of force, reaching the heavy front door within moments. The cool, humid air of the rising dawn pours into your lungs as your legs tear down the road, drowning you as though they were filling with the very ocean waters you now sought. Cronus could have certainly made it to the beach in the time you had spent uselessly wandering places he’d never be anyway. It wasn’t far, but if he had made it to the water, there was no chance of you finding him before sunrise and you’d have to retreat. 

Finally, you launch out through the trees, hope strengthening your aching chest. It was brief, but there had been a figure standing waist-deep in the waves. He wasn’t gone yet! You could still catch him! Unfortunately, your reckless speed had blinded you to the fact that what you had thought was a gradual slope down to the oceanfront was actually a steep drop-off, plunging forward to meet the soft pink sands below. Realization of this only hits you as the last trace of solid ground is torn away from your feet, momentum sending you several feet into open air, then handing you off to gravity so as to have her way with you. The figure in the water remains frozen, ignoring your startled cry – statue like and beautiful. 

You shouldn’t have been falling this long. The out-of-control pinwheel of a horizon refuses to let you orient yourself. Just as you’ve begun to consider the fact that you are in fact falling _up_ , the world stops. Everything, even time stops. The sudden stillness of what was just tumbling around erratically is wrong. This is wrong. Suddenly, the impact catches up with you and you are very aware as to how little air you have. You don’t even remember how to get more. Everything feels wrong. Thankful that the sky has finally decided which way to sit again, it’s all you can think to do when you drag yourself towards it. You can’t make out much at the moment; your eyes are pouring red fluid as you gag on mouthfuls of sand, but the blurry figure draws closer. It strikes you as odd that your leg is dragging along that way, like it wasn’t actually yours and the person who attached it hadn’t quite sewn it on right, but you press forward. Every fistful of ground you hold clears your mind of the fall, filling you with a greater sense of panic and a greater grip of the pain you are now in. Everything is wrong and everything hurts. You call out to the figure in the water, praying that you won’t have to do so again. Moving hurts, shouting hurts worse. No luck, you must try again.  
\- “Cron-uth!” You force past a rapidly swelling bottom lip that must have split when your face was introduced to one of the many stones littering this beach. Finally, the figure’s ear fin twitches. He has heard you, but refuses to acknowledge it. 

The shoulders of his white T-shirt are stained with the most gorgeous shade of purple.

\- “Cronubth” You choke out, sounding more and more like the mentally damaged friend you had offended earlier.  
\- “What are you doing here?” He says flatly. Why won’t he turn around? Something in you needs to see his face to read whatever is missing in his voice - not that you can see too much at the moment past the red haze of tears and pain clouding your vision.  
\- “I came to apologipsbth-” It might not be worth trying to talk at the moment. “I wasbth wrom to sbthay thobth thbingths.” His hollow laugh cuts you in two. The dam bursts and light sobs send twinges of pain through your battered body. Over and over you try to force out an apology but you’re broken in too many ways. Finally, resolve returns to you and it isn’t long before you’ve managed to scoot yourself forward far enough to cough on a wave of sea spray. Just a little farther…

Cronus faces the first glimmers of the sun kissing the water’s edge, seeming to challenge the entity. It is only now you notice his strained knuckles clenched around two oddly shaped objects. They glint purple. They are dripping royal purple, but you can still make out the hint of orange. 

Orange. 

Cronus is holding on for dear life to the remnants of his bloody, severed horns.

You slosh forward through the water on your elbows, never once thinking about the fluid forcing itself into your nose and mouth. The tide drags you mercifully forward, even if it’s taking more than you have to keep yourself in any semblance of upright. You give up on breathing exclusively air and pray that deleting this attention diversion will allow for more force to be devoted to constantly moving closer to your friend. Unfortunately, this has the opposite effect, and it’s immediately clear that you should have never braved the ocean – not like this. Mercifully, you are granted a few seconds of justification when you manage to desperately latch onto a handful of his shirt. Too soon does it slide through your weak fingers as you slip under the churning surface, finally giving into exhaustion. Your tortured lungs would have no more.

You hover in the half-conscious plane of existence, in which you are vaguely aware of your surroundings, yet cannot react to them. Just as you are now vaguely aware of a pair of arms violently tearing you from the grips of whatever cold you had been trapped in before. As soon as you are free, a warm energy fills you, banishing the cold from your limbs, wave by wave. Soon, these waves fall into a comforting rhythm, and you learn to eagerly await the next one. You are actually somewhat disappointed when the waves stop, but are instead greeted by a new sensation. A familiar sound echoes around this strange environment for an eternity before it registers that this is in fact your name. With this realization, your consciousness swings back in the direction of alertness and you find yourself held at the water’s edge, encompassed in a mass of shaking seatroll.  
\- “Idiot!” He snarls into your shoulder. “I was five fucking feet away from you – were you _trying_ to drown yourself?” You cannot think of an answer. Perhaps the ocean water has not yet drained from your thinkpan. Instead, you settle for draping an arm across his back and rest a puffy cheek against the purple stains. The blood is still seeping through his hair, though it nearly blends in with the thick layers of gel. You are now very tired.

Your own screams drag you out of restless slumber, only ceasing when a hand grasps your head and your ear is immediately pressed to a warm surface, under which you can hear a reassuring thrum of a heartbeat.  
\- “Shush. You don’t want to wake the others up yet again, do you? They’ve lost enough sleep worrying.” Still, all you can manage is to stare dumbly at him. “You’re unsettlingly quiet.” He mutters, absentmindedly tracing a pattern on the back of your head. He seems to want you to fuss at him for messing up your hair, but you can’t help be haunted by the bandage that was ruining his.  
\- “Your horns…” He darkens.  
\- “Don’t you dare start. It’s not your fault.”  
\- “If not me, then what else caused it?” You demand, pushing his arm away, wincing as you discover a new painful area to avoid moving. “I didn’t pay attention to triggers like I normally do and I said something horribly insensitive. I don’t care if you’re trying to protect my feelings or whatever else you might be doing, but you cannot deny that what I said was rude and unjustified, furthermore-” His hand clamps over your mouth forcefully and you now take note of the pulsing vein on the side of his neck. You are also thankful that your swollen lip has now receded, as his firm grip is already irritating the split skin enough.  
\- “Thank goodness your vocabulary’s not broken anymore. Wish I could say the same for your shin.” You try to say a retort through his hand, but he refrains from removing it. “Look, Kankri. Yeah, I was surprised to hear that comment coming from you, but it was still one more comment that was just like everyone else’s. It’s every day for me. As soon as I even mention the word ‘human’, everyone in the room gets uncomfortably quiet, like they’re afraid to tell me that the pod fairy’s not real or something. If you didn't say something, it still would've happened eventually.” A hand unconsciously flutters up and brushes the empty air above his ear. “My horns were the worst part of my reflection every morning. The fins are weird, and my skin will always be gray, but I can hide those. But, I can never hide my horns. No hat in the world can fix my reflection to look like who want to believe I am. Tonight I just… panicked.”  
\- “But why?” You mouth into his fingers. You always knew he tried to masquerade as a human whenever possible, but never had he mentioned just how much the physical differences weighed on him.  
\- “Because if Kankri Vantas, the most verbally paranoid and politically correct guy I know, is fed up with the act…” He trails off, but you can clearly hear the implied message. For once, instead of defaulting to some wordy speech to attempt debunking your friend’s inferred self-hatred, you pull yourself upward and silently indicate that the seatroll is to place his head in your lap. He seems understandably confused.  
\- “Just do it.” You mumble. Thankfully, with a stretch he complies and settles down sprawled across you, careful to mind your injured leg and bruised hip.  
\- “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for taking such a stupid fall, either.” He hisses, but promptly flinches as you stretch out a hand and lightly slide the edge of his bandage upward. Porrim would most certainly disapprove, but the wound seemed clean enough, you suppose. The dried blood had been dabbed away leaving a jagged circle of bony material that would definitely need to be sanded down later. Gently, so as to not irritate the wound, you begin to trace around the soft padded horn base. While this area could be used by other trolls as a sensual area during pailing season, you know that this certain friend finds it highly relaxing, which is all you can think to offer to him right now. He certainly has no objections, you note, as he instantly goes limp and begins emanating a guttural purr, his ear fins fluttering ever so slightly.  
\- “Hey, Cronus?”  
\- “Mmm?” He croons contentedly.  
\- “You mentioned you have the means to hide your ears and skin color. May I inquire as to how?” He blushes slightly but remains flopped over your lap nonetheless, too comfortable to be particularly bothered.  
\- “Makeup and Body paint. I always dress to impress, but sometimes on particularly low days I take some time alone to go all out.”  
\- “I see.”  
\- “Why do you ask?”  
\- “Do you think... maybe I could help you with it next time?”


End file.
